Emery Drew - Soap Opera in the Royal Tower
by NancyDrewified
Summary: It's pretty much a parody of Nancy Drew - Treasure in a Royal Tower. Emery is pretty much a younger Nancy. I would say she's 12 or 13. I really like this game because of PROFESSOR HOTCHKISS! And yes, I am going to finish Cookie Curse, I just posted this because I think it's funnier. Hope ya like it, please, only constructive criticism!
1. Meet Emery

_Dear Nancy,_

_So much for my Wisconsin ski vacation! I arrived at Wickford Castle last night, just before a blizzard swept in! The mountain is completely shut down, and the surrounding roads are closed! I think I'm one of the few guests who made it to the castle at all!_

_This place is huge and old! And slightly creepy, but you know us! WE EAT CREEPY FOR BREAKFAST! With a side of scrambled eggs. :)_

_You should just hear this wind! There are some hissing noises behind me that sound like Slender. :( I wish I never agreed to play that game!_

_What's more, the castle's owner, Christi Lane, a friend of Daddy's, is away on business! I tried to ask the caretaker, Dexter Egan, how I could contact her, but he said he didn't know. Seem suspicious? I can't help feeling he's hiding something!_

_All of this makes me a little nervous, but I'm determined to enjoy myself. After all, this is a vacation, right? I have big plans to explore the castle!_

_Ezra Wickford, the original owner, must've been quite the character to build such an extraordinary place! It's filled with strange dead end corridors, for one thing, and I noticed that one of the towers is completely different from the other ones!_

_Of course, I'll have to save some time to meet Jacques Brunais, the French ski instructor! Tell Bess she'll be the first to know if he's as 'gorgeous' in person as on his website! I don't get what the big deal is, but I'll let her know._

_I guess things never go according to plan. (And you should know!) But at least the culprit is just a snowstorm!_

_TTYL!_

_~Emery Drew_

Emery Drew finished writing the letter to her older sister Nancy. She just needed a stamp now. She was quite distracted by the hissing clanging noise behind her.

"SLENDER! SHUT UP!" She cried, turning around. But instead of Slender Man, she found a broken radiator. Sighing, she walked to the dresser at the opposite end of the room. She found a menu for the castle. She grabbed a pillow and shoved it over her ears, then glanced over at the table.

"Oh! The next issue of Sassy Detective!" Emery shrieked, picking up the magazine and rifling through it. It only had two pages, 21 and 22. Emery always wondered why every book she came across on her adventures would only have a few pages, but look like it was filled with pages. She read the article. It was about fingerprinting. She suspected it would never be useful, but her stupid photographic memory had already memorized the article. She flopped the magazine back onto the table and looked at the other table.

She opened the drawer and pulled out a small card. "Wickford Castle Vacation Resort," she read aloud. "Locker# 310 Combination: 5-1-7."

She put the small card back and grabbed her room key. She opened the door of her room, eager to get away from the Slender radiator.

She ran down a hall, and slid down the banister, landing in front of the front desk.

"Hello Miss Drew," Dexter sounded grumpy. "Did you get squared away upstairs?"

"Yeah, thanks Mr. Egan! My room is lovely, but I think there's something wrong with my radiator. It sounds like Slender."

He stared at her blankly for a few minutes. "Sorry for that inconvenience," He replied sarcastically, "but you're just gonna have to sit tight for a while. I'm the only one on duty while the owner's away - and around here it seems like even if it ain't broke it still needs fixing. Last time I checked there were only 24 hours in a day. And now to make matters worse, there have been a few incidents."

"I hope it's nothing serious. The owner Christi Lane, is a friend of my dad's - and I know how much she loves this castle," Emery replied, remembering what her daddy had told her.

"Everything's under control. Is there anything else, Miss Drew?" Dexter asked, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Yes. One, don't call me Miss Drew! I'm not old! Just call me Emery. Two, I need to mail this letter. Three, where did you get your haircut?! It's almost BALD!" I cried, in mock terror.

He looked a lot annoyed. "Well, I can take the letter, but the mail's not going anywhere for a while. it's snowing like there's no tomorrow out there. So explore all you want. Take the grand tour, but forget about the library. It's off limits."

"Off limits?"

"Someone vandalized our historic library, really turned the place upside down. The owner, Ms. Lane, she's gonna be pretty upset."

"Why would anyone want to vandalize a library?"

"I have no idea. I straightened up in there before check-in yesterday, and everything was fine. Now it looks like a bomb went off. Books everywhere, and somebody hacked a big hole in one of the walls. I locked the place up and called the police, but who knows when they'll be able to get here."

"A hole in the wall? Reminds me of a TV show. What do you think they were looking for?"

"I can't tell, but somebody's definitely after something."

"What else has gone wrong?"

"Well, this 'Professor Hotchkiss' just called me in a terrible flap, saying that her room's been robbed. I went up there but she wouldn't open the door to talk about it - wouldn't even tell me what was missing! What's she want me to do about it?"

"Sounds like you're swamped, Mr. Egan! Is there anything I could do to help?" Emery hoped he would say no. She really didn't like doing people's chores for them, but wanted to sound polite.

"Well . . . Hotchkiss has a pair of ski boots in the basement. The Frenchman's been working on 'em for her, but won't deliver 'em. Says he's a ski instructor, not a bell hop. I hate to ask this, but if you could grab those boots and bring 'em up to her, it might smooth her feathers. It sure would smooth mine."

Emery mentally face-palmed for asking, but nodded. "Okay, see ya, Mr. Egan!"

"Goodbye."

Emery turned around and into a quiet room with a roaring fire. A girl was sitting in a leather chair, reading a magazine.

"Hi, I'm Lisa! Did you hear what happened? Someone broke into the library and vandalized it! Dexter locked it up; he's saying the culprit must be one of us in the castle. Can you believe it?" She exclaimed as Emery walked up.

"Why would it be one of us?" Emery asked.

"Apparently, the only guests who made it here before the blizzard set in are you, me and Professor Hotchkiss. Oh, and then there's our on staff suspects: Dexter, our 'friendly' desk clerk and Jacques Brunais, ski instructor extraordinaire," Lisa replied, eying Emery. "Aren't you a little young to be here alone?"

"Yes. Yes I am. But, who's Jacques Brunais?" Emery asked.

Lisa looked suspiciously at Emery, but shrugged it off and said, "Didn't you watch the last winter olympics? He's France's 'big cheese' of holds the record for the 500 meter slalom, but he totally choked at the games. I guess he's washed up now, but at least his looks haven't gone down the tubes!"

_Why does everyone think he's so cute?!_ "So this place is like a soap opera?"

"Oh my gosh - wait til you hear this! Hotchkiss is this nutty old woman who's always typing and talking to herself in her room. I was walking past her room earlier and she was screaming that her room had been robbed!"

_Didn't answer my question, but okay._ "You said she's a professor. Do you know what she teaches?"

"I'm not really sure. She just kept wailing 'my theory, my theory!' I think she teaches history - or maybe a foreign language. I think I heard a couple of French words pop out of her mouth. But don't quote me on that either. I barely passed spanish in high school!"

_This is such a soap opera . . ._ "Habla Español?"

"Hardly! I'm just a humble photojournalist covering weird old mansions in the Midwest. And this place is one of the weirdest! Did you know Ezra Wickford, the castle's original owner, shut himself away in here for, like, 50 years?"

"Why?"

"I don't-"

"Because he had a bald spot?!"

"I'm not-"

"Because he liked cows?!"

"I don't think-"

"BECAUSE HE HAD A BALD SPOT WITH A COW!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Lisa cried.

"Why didn't you just say so then?" Emery asked.

Lisa face-palmed.

"You must know a lot about this place," Emery changed the subject.

"Not really, but I sure want to get into that tower that came from France! It'd be great for my story! Too bad Wickford sealed it off. Maybe it's his ghost making those creepy noises at night!"

"Oh, it's probably Slender, not a ghost."

Lisa stared at Emery blankly."Right . . ."

"I'll let you get back to your magazine."

"Stay warm!"

Emery turned to the bookshelf behind her and scanned the books. Surprisingly, she could only pick up two books. Major Figures and Events of the French Revolution, Book 1 and 2. Sighing, she picked up book 1. It only had four pages, 27 to 30. She shoved it back in the shelf and picked up book 2. She couldn't believe it! It only had four pages as well! Pages 13 to 16. She put it back and backed away from the messed up bookshelf.

Emery walked down a hallway, towards a spiral staircase. She tried going up, but it was too dark. She turned around and walked down the hall the other way and found the library. Smirking, She tried the handle. "It's locked." She tried again. "It's locked." Third time's the charm. "It's locked."

She growled and turned around. Behind her was a really old elevator. Like, really old. It had a normal looking door, and a fence looking thing. She stepped inside. She felt that it was the sort of elevator that would stop in-between floors and cause an elevator puzzle. She pressed the basement button and the elevator slowly moved downward.

Once it reached the basement, Emery tumbled out. She walked up to a door marked, "Ski Rental Office." It was closed, but she picked up a paintbrush.

She began banging on the door. "JACK BRUNO! OPEN UP!"

Angry French grumbling came through the door. "Sacrebleu! Who has interrupted my beauty sleep?!"

The angry Frenchman opened the top of the door and Emery screamed in terror. His face was covered in a green spa cream and over his eyes were cucumbers. "Who dares interrupt my beauty sleep AND call me by the wrong name?!"

"Me," Emery piped up. "And do you think I could have Professor Hotchkiss's ski boots?"

He shoved them into my hands and slammed the door in my face. "Well that was rude," She grumbled.

She decided to check out my locker while she was there. She walked up to locker 310 and turned the combination lock. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing. She walked back up to the French guy. "JACK BRUNO!"

"WHAT IS IT YOU-!"

"MY LOCKER IS 310 AND I TRIED THE COMBINATION 5-1-7 AND IT FAILED!" She interrupted.

"I THINK THAT COMBINATION IS FOR LOCKER 311! NOW GO AWAY!"

Emery walked back to the locker room and tried the combination on locker 311. It gave a satisfying click and opened with ease. "Wait, this isn't my stuff!"

She looked through a bag, trying to figure out who's locker she had just broke into. She found a letter in a foreign language, a camera and fake ID's and passports. "Is that Lisa? I think I need to confront our 'humble photojournalist' . . ."

She dashed back up the elevator and then into the room where Lisa sat.

"Hey Emery, how's it-" Lisa began.

"WHY DO YOU HAVE A BUNCH OF FAKE PASSPORTS AND ID'S?!" Emery cried, getting straight to the point, unlike her sister Nancy.

"How'd you-?"

"I got the wrong locker combination from Dexter and went through your stuff to find out who's locker I accidentally broke into and found all your fake stuff, so spill!" Emery exclaimed.

"Okay, okay!" Lisa held up her hands in defense. "A savvy photojournalist always carries a couple 'alternate identities', Emery! When you're working on a deadline, you don't always have time to play by the rules. I'm sure you know what I mean."

Emery crossed her arms, but nodded, remembering that sometimes Nancy had taken an alternate identity. "Goodbye Lisa."

"Keep me posted!"

Emery had to admit, Lisa seemed like the nicest, and most sane person here, other than herself. But she remembered times when the nice people had been the culprits. Like when Nancy went to Deception Island. Andy Jason seemed so nice! In her defense, he had given her a keychain! And she had only been five at the time . . .

She shook her head and continued up the steps to deliver the ski boots to the wacky professor. Standing in front of the door, she could hear the sound a someone typing. Taking a deep breath, Emery knocked on the door.

"Yes helloooo - Is that Jacques with my boots?"

"Actually, it's Emery Drew. But I do have your boots for you."

The door cracked open and an eye peeped out. "Oh good. Boots. Fine. Thank you. Everything is fine. Just leave the boots at the door please. Hmm . . . It seems I'm out of change. I'll just have to tip you next time, Remmy."

"It's Emery. And I'm happy to leave to boots. But if you're not too busy, Professor, I'd like to introduce myself properly and ask you a couple of questions."

"Questions, yes, and proper introductions, sounds lovely. But not now, later." And with that the door closed and Emery could hear the Professor typing away again. Sighing, Emery placed the boots by the door. She began to walk away, then remembered that Nancy knew a woman named Professor Hotchkiss who always got her name wrong. Emery was about to turn around, but realized it was probably a waste of time, since Professor Hotchkiss wouldn't remember Nancy's name anyways. Emery continued to walk back downstairs to tell Dexter she had finished her task.


	2. Hotchkiss the T-Rex

"Can you fix Slender- I mean the radiator?" Emery asked.

"Sorry, not yet. Hotchkiss called up to report that she got her boots, but now I'm told there's a light out in the back stairwell."

_Ah, yes. The darkness that is preventing me from getting exercise._

"Could you check to circuit breaker in the basement and make sure it's working?"

_Argh! More chores!_ "Okay, see ya."

Emery went back to the dark spiral staircase, but instead of going up, she went down! **(A/N: Shocker, I know :)** She went along the halls until she found the circuit breaker. She flipped all the switches and then unflipped the one that made the lights go out where she was. "Problem solved."

Emery walked back up the stairs and went to talk to Dexter. "I don't want to pester you Mr. Egan, but . . . the radiator?"

"Thanks for dealing with the circuit breaker. Okay! We're making progress here, kid! So you go up to Hotchkiss's room and see what she wants for dinner? She's not answering her phone," Dexter replied.

"No problem Boss!" Emery left and ran up to Professor Hotchkiss's room. She knocked on the door.

"Ack! Virginia Woolf never endured such interruptions! Who is it?"

"It's Emery again. Dexter needs to know what you want for dinner."

"Hard to think of food, Emma, when I'm riding the raging rapids of my theory! Right now I have plenty of pre-packed energy globules to keep me going!"

_Sounds . . . disgusting._

"But - tell Baxter that I am developing a powerful craving for couscous! Yes, couscous for dinner would be splendid!"

_Couscous? What even is that?!_

"I'll have to tip you next time, Renee!" And then the professor's voice was replaced by the sound of typing.

Emery walked back down to Dexter. "Uh, the professor wants, uh, couscous."

"Couscous? Never heard of it! Tell her to order something off the menu!"

Emery walked back up to the professor's room. "Is that my couscous already?"

"Sorry Professor, but there's no couscous in the house. You'll need to order off the menu."

"Well, I don't HAVE a menu - at least not from this hotel. Be a doll and fetch me one will you? Ta ta!"

Emery grumbled, but remembered she had picked up a menu from her room. She knocked on the door.

"Did you get the menu?" Professor Hotchkiss asked through the door.

"Sure did! How about opening the door so I can give it to you?"

"Oh, you're a sneaky one! Just slip it under the door. Nice and easy, no funny stuff!"

_Gosh, she's paranoid!_ Emery thought as she slipped the menu under the door.

"Oooh, ahh, hmmm . . . baby back ribs . . . chili cheese dog . . . fried bologna sandwich . . . I'm not usually much of a meat eater, but . . . very well. Fifty drumsticks, please. Chicken, that is. Cluck cluck."

_Not much of a meat eater?! Sheesh, she's pretty much a T-Rex!_ "Sure - fifty drumsticks - whatever makes you happy!"

Emery walked back to Dexter. "The professor changed her order. Seems she's developed an appetite for chicken drumsticks, fifty of them!"

"Okay then. Drumsticks we got. Oops, but I guess Jacques better take that bag of chicken legs outta the freezer. Will you tell him? And then take the day off kid! Your radiator's as good as fixed."

Emery walked off, and into the elevator. Somehow, she managed to get to the basement safely. She walked right up to Jacques.

"Hey Jack. Dexter needs you to defrost that big bag of chicken legs," Emery announced.

The ski instructor seemed annoyed that Emery was back and that he had to do chores. "Oh la la! What does he think I am? A sous chef?"

"I'll talk to you later!" Emery went back to the elevator. She had gotten past the idea it would break down. It had lasted the last hundred or however many years, right?

It began its slow journey upwards when suddenly, in between the first and second floor, it stopped.

"I KNEW IT!" Emery cried. She also knew what she had to do. She climbed out the top of the elevator and stepped on a box that was to be used for such an occasion. She was suddenly glad the elevator door was a normal door, because she could just barely reach the handle. the door swung open and she jumped up to the second floor. She brushed herself off, then heard a terrible crash and a few bangs. She cringed, hoping that wasn't anything important.

Emery decided to talk to Professor Hotchkiss. At least she's good for a few laughs, if nothing else. Emery thought as she knocked on the door.

"Is that you Emmy?" The door opened the slightest bit. "I'm glad you're here. At the moment, my theory is rising like a magnificent souffle! I need to collect a few more ingredients, if you will. But it's a delicate situation: if I leave my room even for a moment, I fear the souffle will come crashing down in a heap!"

"You're cooking a souffle in there?" Emery joked.

"Don't take me too literally dear. What I need is some information about the castle. Hard numbers. I've come to the conclusion that you are an enterprising and faithful soul; therefore I have decided to entrust you with this important mission!"

_You never fail to impress me, Professor._

"Who knows? If you succeed, I might whisk you away from the hotel business to be my personal research assistant!" She eyed Emery closely. "Aren't you a bit young to work at a hotel, Romy?"

"Actually,I don't work here, Professor," Emery replied. "But I'd love to help." Not really.

"Marvelous! Here's what I need to know: Not counting the towers, how many windows are there on the face of the castle?"

_And why does she need to know this again?_

"I'll be very eager to hear what you come up with. But please don't disturb me unless you have the answer!"


End file.
